


Bedtime Story

by thuvia ptarth (thuviaptarth)



Category: Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-08
Updated: 2007-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-03 13:42:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thuviaptarth/pseuds/thuvia%20ptarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You vow in your heart to be as brave as a tailor, as kind as a knight, as clever as a little girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Story

Your sister's grave is marked by a gray stone with her name and the year of her death, because no one knows when she was born. She sleeps next to your mother, who died of grief when you were born, after your father had died in a city far away. He was a tailor, Mama says, your sister said so, and Mama teaches you how to sew a straight line as soon as your hands are steady enough to hold a needle. Sometimes you prick your finger but you suck your finger quick before the blood can blot the fabric. You do not cry about it and you do not complain. You are sewing a straight line like your father. You wonder if your sister liked to sew. Mama tells you she liked books. That is all you know about her, that she was a hero and liked books; that she was clever and kind and brave, and saved you from a monster, a man as cruel as an ogre, as heartless as a blind giant who eats children.

The books have been yours since before you could read. The illustrations are the colors of dying leaves, gold and brown and red; all the princesses wear blood-red dresses and ruby slippers like Dorothy's. Your sister was a fairy princess and your life was her dying gift. _Two women died for you, mijito,_ Mama tells you, when she rocks you to sleep, when her forehead is pressed to your forehead, when she breathes safety and love as you fall asleep. _Never forget._

_I won't,_ you say, _I won't,_ and you vow in your heart to be as brave as a tailor, as kind as a knight, as clever as a little girl. On clear warm days you take your sister's books to her grave and read them to her. Fairies creep out of the shadows to listen; at dusk your sister presses a shadowy hand to your cheek and whispers, _Thank you._ Whispers, _Listen_. Whispers, _I have a story to tell you ..._

_Come home with me,_ you say to your sister the hero, and she shakes her head sadly.

_I can't._

_Let me come home with you,_ you say to your sister the princess, and she shakes her head again.

_It's dark underground,_ she tells you, _it's cold._

_I won't mind,_ you lie. _I won't be afraid._

_It's okay to be afraid,_ she says. _Sometimes it's scary and dark up here, too._

_Then what's the difference?_ you ask, and she shakes her head a third time and says, _One day you'll know._

She only tells you stories by the grave, but sometimes you see her elsewhere, or almost see her: a glitter of gold-embroidered dress, a comforting kiss on your brow when you've almost fallen asleep, a whisper you don't need to hear to understand. _I love you, too,_ you whisper back. _Good night,_ you say to each other, _good night, good night, good night._ Sometimes, when your foster mother sings you to sleep, your big sister joins in.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bedtime Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/314670) by [tinypinkmouse_podfic (tinypinkmouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse_podfic)




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